


All Apologies

by jendavis



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Uses His Words, Episode Tag, Episode: s07e16 The First Day of the Rest of Your Life, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Jesus needs a hug, M/M, Minor Character Death, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 07, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jendavis/pseuds/jendavis
Summary: My take on what is obviously going to be revealed as having happened in 8x01, since there's absolutely no way that this could possibly get Jossed.(Warnings for gen, 'cause even though I ship it like FedEx, and despite all my favorite reads the the contrary, I just can't write them making out like high schoolers right outta the gate).





	All Apologies

The speeches are done, the sky's growing dark. Most of the dead are burned or buried; the others are loaded onto trucks for tomorrow, ready to be taken back to wherever they'd lived this morning. 

Sasha's staying here. She's got a nice spot by the trees at the edge of the cemetery.

Maggie will be coming back to Hilltop, but not for another day or two. She, Rick, and Ezekiel have been holed up at Rick's house since before sundown. Plotting strategies, making plans. 

It's the kind of meeting he'd gotten used to crashing, but his habit of lurking and listening isn't as necessary here as it is back at home. He doesn't need to be there, listening for every double meaning and trying to predict every false front.

Maggie understands Hilltop more than Gregory- wherever he'd disappeared to- ever had, and in ways that Paul never would. She hadn't been around long, but she'd started becoming one of them; Sasha'd been like that too. Enough that it seems wrong, heading back without either of them. 

He's got until morning, though, to get used to the idea.

\--- 

"You can't just run off in the middle of the night," Carol tells Daryl. "Figure we've got at least a day before they retaliate." Shiva's finally deciding that the cardboard in the corner of the garage has been shredded and gnawed enough for her purposes; the two of them watch as she turns in a circle and beds down. 

"A day from now, or a day from when they left?"

She shrugs, getting up from the garage steps. "All I'm saying is wait until morning. Talk to Rick, see what the plan is. Go from there."

"Yeah." 

"I'm turning in. If you're worried about sleeping where someone might find you too easy, the downstairs guest room's open. If there's a surprise attack coming, the house with the guard tiger isn't going to be the easiest target."

Making a noncommittal noise, he stands up and nods towards the side door. He's not really sure where he's going, but the walk might do him some good. 

\---

There are a lot of people out on the streets for this time of night, enough that it's reminding him of Halloween minus the costumes, July Fourth minus the fireworks. Everyone's quiet, though; they've had their fill of horror and gunpowder already. All they're doing is chasing down the adrenaline crash. 

Tara and Aaron had started sorting out guest room arrangements for their allies this afternoon; it's too late for safe travel, and the Alexandrians probably aren't all that fond of the idea of hearing their gates opening until they themselves have rested up. 

He'd been assigned a room at the house next door to Rick and Michonne's; he's meandering down towards it when he meets Daryl coming up the cross-street. 

"Jesus, hold up," he calls out, though his voice is low and gravelly enough that the sound probably only carries as much as it needs to. "Just saw Aaron. Looks like you're crashing at my place."

 _That_ , he thinks, is a detail that Aaron might've mentioned. "That cool?"

"Yeah. Got a guest room, an' shit. Whiskey too, if you want some."

That, Paul thinks, is the most promising offer he's heard in days. 

\--- 

At least Aaron hadn't put any of Ezekiel's people over here. They all seem all right, but he doesn't know them at all and he's not in the mood for small talk with near strangers. And hell, he'd already crashed on Jesus' floor back at Hilltop. It ain't a big deal.

Even so, Daryl's got no idea what he's supposed to be doing, here. This house, with the pale green siding and the sealed driveway's barely his enough that it feels right playin' host to people, but here he is: pouring whiskey into glasses on account of company, and pretending that Jesus ain't sitting there at the kitchen table, sipping at his drink and lookin' like he's waitin' for the axe to fall. 

Daryl thinks about pretending that he doesn't notice, but even that can only go on for so long. 

Downing half his drink, he swallows a cough and asks, "you all right?"

Jesus' eyes blink wide at him, like he's surprised Daryl'd asked, too. "Better than a lot of people right now, I figure." But then he's dipping his head down, and glancing up at him like he's trying to gauge his reaction. "I'm sorry about Sasha." 

"Me too." He frowns, realizing he's probably lookin' too hard at Jesus right now so he glances back down at the bottle. "But. It was on her own terms, and she saved our asses on the way out, though. Gotta kind of think she'd have appreciated the hell outta that."

Jesus flinches, and, _shit_. Daryl'd been trying to go for Rick or Maggie, there, and he'd come up with Abe- fuck, _Abe_ \- when it ain't no secret that Sasha's going off with Rosita had been eatin' at Jesus for days, now. He sits up, meaning to explain what he'd meant, but Jesus is shaking his head. 

"I know, I know. But when it happened. After, I mean-" Jesus shakes his head, contemplating his glass. "Me and Maggie, we went looking for her. And I took care of it." He downs his drink in one go; Daryl can't blame him; it tastes like someone slapped the wrong label on a bottle of paint thinner, which is probably why nobody'd bothered looting it from the restaurant down by the interstate. After taking a minute to catch his breath, he continues. 

"It was the same kind of awful as it always is, you know? But. It wasn't until Maggie said that you all were making a place for her _here_ that it hit me that she wasn't coming back. Like, to _Hilltop_." He grins, suddenly, but it's a sad one, and he's exhaling through his nose. "And now I can't stop thinking about the comb and extra socks she left back in my trailer, and how they're just gonna be sitting there waiting for her when I get back, and I'm gonna have to deal with it all over again." 

That fuckin' sucks, he thinks, but sayin' so ain't gonna make it suck any less. But Jesus' eyes are sinking to half mast, and maybe neither of them need to talk for a minute anyway. 

He's taking another sip of his drink when the idea occurs to him. It takes him another few seconds to decide whether it's a good idea. "Y'all headin' out tomorrow?"

"Maggie said she's staying on for a few days. I'm driving the truck back in the morning with the rest of the convoy." 

Daryl leans back in his chair; all of the furniture in this house matches, and feels _just_ this side of flimsy; it had all probably been expensive as hell. But the chair holds, even if it does creak, and he thinks it might be some kind of sign. 

The longer he stays here, the more things will break. 

"Got room for one more?"

\--- 

The sun's only been up for a while now, but Rick, Maggie and Ezekiel have already started getting everyone sorted out to work on creating dead drops and mapping alternate routes between their settlements. They've got a plan for a new communication system that Ezekiel wants to try- _pigeons_ , which Paul really thinks he should've seen coming- but his brain's not firing on all cylinders yet. 

He's tired; it had been late when he'd made his way to the guest room, and even later when he'd finally managed to get to sleep. More than that, though, he's hungover. 

It's nearly midmorning by the time everyone gets their act together to actually head out; Rick and Morgan had wanted to talk to Daryl about red herrings they could throw out when Negan inevitably comes looking for him again. 

It's probably something they should sort out too, since Negan'd figured out the Alexandria-Hilltop connection, but Daryl's climbing up into the truck's cab next to him, and he looks like he's faring no better than Paul himself is. 

It takes a few miles for the silence to become too much. With nothing to do besides follow the SUV ahead of them, Paul's brain is picking out every excruciating detail of the chattering wreck he'd been last night, and it's all too aware of how irritable and exhausted Daryl's looking right now. 

It takes another few miles for him to muster up the apology, but he manages it. 

"I know you had to skin out anyway, but thanks for coming." He slows down for the curve in the road. "And I'm sorry about last night."

Daryl's turning his head stiffly, squinting at Paul like he's from Mars. 

Eyes back on the road, he stretches his fingers over the steering wheel. 

"The hell're you apologizing for?"

"Giving you front row seats to the whole drunken self-pity show."

He can feel Daryl still staring at him- really, he could look away any _time_ now, it's getting weird- but then he snorts. 

"So, you can watch me bash a Savior's head in and jump on a bike right behind me with no problem, but I'm supposed to be freaking out 'cause you got drunk and maudlin and shit?" He huffs again, and shakes his head. "That's fucking stupid." 

It really kind of is, now that he thinks about it. 

"Wake me up when you want me to drive."

He glances over, just in time to see Daryl settling down into his seat and closing his eyes. 

And smirking, just a little bit.


End file.
